


wow and flutter

by gothyringwald



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Humor, M/M, Mixtape, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: HarringtonIf you tell anyone I like Madonna Iwillend you-BP.S. Hope you like the tape or whateverBilly makes Steve a mixtape. Because Steve has terrible taste in music. Steve only listens to it because he’s got nothing better to do and he’s curious. That’s all it is. Really.





	wow and flutter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trashandnostar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashandnostar/gifts).



> Of course the first thing I write for this ship is this silly bit of fluffy nonsense! I'm so predictable. But, I haven't had a ship where one person could canonically make a mixtape for the other in ages, and I got excited. (I actually have a different fic started for them that was meant to be my first but, yeah, I got distracted by the idea of Billy making Steve a mixtape).
> 
> Also, I literally started shipping this just last week (thanks to trashandnostar) and I still haven't gone through all the fic, and I've only watched the show through once, but, yeah. Here I am. I wrote it up in roughly five or six hours and it's un-beta'd so please feel free to point out any spelling mistakes.

The cassette is sitting in his locker, on top of his books, when he goes to get his trig notes. It wasn't there this morning, and it's not labelled. At first he thinks it might be from Dustin or maybe one of the other kids (he's not sure why they would leave him a tape, but half the things they do still don't make sense to him). 

But when he picks it up—the case is a little beat up, like it's been used before—a piece of paper slips out. It flutters to the floor and Steve steps on it before it can slide underneath the lockers. The thwack of his rubber sole hitting the linoleum makes him wince as it reverberates through the bustling hall, but no one else seems to notice. He bends down to pick the paper up—it's crumpled, a scrap torn from a notebook—and his eyebrows raise as he reads it over.

_Harrington_  
_If you tell anyone I like Madonna I will end you_  
_-B_  
_P.S. Hope you like the tape or whatever_

What? He blinks. And then he reads the note over, again, pulse racing. It's obviously from Billy—it's signed 'B', he recognises the handwriting and no one else would leave a present and a threat at the same time—but it also can't be from Billy.

Sure, they've been fooling around lately, things less antagonistic between them after Billy's apology for beating him up turned into another fight, which somehow turned into them making out in the deserted gym. Now, all their mutual tension is let out in heated make out sessions and furtive hand jobs. But they're not...they're not _friends_ let alone...well, people who make mixtapes for each other. (The thought of Billy carefully recording the songs onto the cassette is not at all endearing, either, he swears it isn't).

So a mixtape? A mixtape is completely unexpected. But maybe not unwelcome. Steve grasps the plastic box tight in his hand, sharp edges digging into the soft flesh of his palm, feeling warm all over. Billy Hargrove makes mixtapes. And he made one for Steve Harrington.

Wait, Billy likes Madonna, Steve thinks, taking out the tracklisting and, sure enough, _Lucky Star_ by Madonna is written there in Billy's spindly hand, wedged between Whitesnake and Foreigner. It should disturb him that his first thought is how cute it is and not that he's going to give Billy so much shit for _liking Madonna_. (She is kind of cool. Has great style, Steve will give her that.) Steve shakes his head with a small, perplexed smile and tucks the mixtape into his backpack.

The bell rings, shrill and rattling, startling him from his thoughts of Madonna loving metalheads. The sounds of locker doors slamming, anxious murmurs and sneakers squeaking over the floor fill the hall as kids rush to class. Steve shuts his own locker, makes his own way to class, feeling dazed and uncertain. And, yeah, he admits as he sits heavily at his desk, maybe a little happy.

__

At lunch, Steve settles under a tree, legs stretched in front of him, sunglasses perched on his nose. He'd slipped away before Nancy or Jonathan could find him, not wanting to wait to listen to the mixtape and not wanting to explain its existence to either of them. That is not a conversation he imagines going well. He shudders at the thought and takes out his walkman. It's not like he's eager to listen to the tape, or anything, he's just _curious_. So, he slides the cassette into the walkman, heart racing, palms sweaty (it's a warm day), and presses play.

He tilts his head back, resting it against the tree and closes his eyes as an organ resounds through his earbuds. It sends a shiver down his spine. His hand curls around the walkman, thumb tapping against the red plastic, and a small smile winds its way onto his lips. Whitesnake. He actually likes this song. 

A warm breeze kisses his skin and he doesn't even think to fix his hair, too caught up in the songs and in trying not to read anything into them. There are a lot of, for lack of a better term, love songs. But aren't most songs love songs, these days? It doesn't mean anything. He and Billy fool around, they have fun. That's all it is and all either of them wants, right? 

Then again, these aren't all exactly happy love songs, which complicates the matter further. He scrubs a hand over his face and groans. But, still, his smile returns and his blood thrums when _Lucky Star_ comes on. He pretends it's just from the image of Billy, with his mullet, and earring, and those damned unbuttoned shirts, listening to Madonna. It has nothing to do with the lyrics or the thought that Billy would trust Steve with this piece of himself.

He opens his eyes and traces his fingers along the list of songs. It hits him completely, then. _Billy Hargrove made him a mixtape._ Billy sat down, and recorded one song after another onto the cassette, so he could share them with Steve. That thought makes his stomach do something complicated and twisty and not entirely unpleasant. He hugs his knees to his chest, rests his chin on his knees, and listens to the tape until the bell rings.

__

'Thanks for the tape,' Steve says, waggling his walkman as he slides into Billy's Camaro three blocks from school. The leather seat squeaks beneath his thighs and the car shakes as he shuts the door a little too hard.

Billy shrugs, hands tight on the wheel. 'Yeah, well, you have shit taste in music. I didn't want to listen to Phil Collins while we were making out, again. Ever.' 

Steve laughs. Billy is surly, as usual, but there is the slightest pink tinge to his cheeks—he looks pretty like this, Steve's mind supplies, unhelpfully—that makes Steve wonder if the songs do mean more, after all. If they weren't just chosen at random, or, at least, not entirely.

'Completely selfish motives, then?' Steve asks, lightly, biting his lip to keep from smiling. He pulls the seatbelt across himself, the buckle slotting into place with a neat click.

Billy drums his fingers, looking straight ahead. 'Yep.'

Before he can stop himself, Steve leans over and kisses Billy on the corner of his mouth. His skin is warm beneath his lips. 'Thank-you,' Steve repeats, voice softer, confidential.

Billy jerks away, like he's been burnt. 'What are you doing?' He looks out the window, pointedly.

'Don't worry, no one's around,' Steve murmurs, face hot.

Silence falls over them, heavy and uncomfortable. Billy clenches his jaw, resolutely not looking at Steve. Steve feels like an idiot. 

'I listened to some of it at lunch,' he says, when the silence becomes suffocating. 

Billy finally pulls away from the curb, tires squealing, driving in the direction of Steve's house. He stays silent and Steve looks at him sidelong. His jaw is tight, cheeks still flushed, brow furrowed. His breathing is slow, deliberate. 

Finally, Billy says, 'Yeah? You like it?' in a tone that is far too casual.

'It's all right,' Steve says, offhand, still a little hurt that Billy had pulled away. He gets it, and he doesn't know why it hurts, only that it does. 

He bites his lip and feels like a jerk when Billy's shoulders hunch, when he pulls in on himself. At least he didn't make any jokes about Madonna. He sighs and reaches out, tentatively. When Billy doesn't flinch away, he rests a hand on his knee, squeezing. They never do this, but it feels like the right thing to do, right now. 

He swallows, thickly. 'Yeah, I like it. A lot.'

'That's cool,' says Billy in that same mock-casual tone but he's smiling now and he doesn't shake off Steve's hand. 'You can put it on, if you want,' he says and so Steve does. The tape easily slides into the deck—a new addition—and starts playing mid-song, where Steve left off.

Billy taps his fingers on the steering wheel and Steve leans back, thinking how those fingers will be digging into his waist, his hips, soon (not soon enough). His heart beats fast and he closes his eyes while Billy drives, Boston blaring through the Camaro's speakers, and a warm breeze blowing through the rolled down windows. Yeah, Steve thinks, cracking open an eye and looking over at Billy, a small smile playing over the other boy's lips. Maybe the tape does mean something, after all. And at least it will definitely be better than making out to Phil Collins.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually really like Phil Collins.
> 
> Thanks for reading! You can [find the whole playlist here](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/168092475280/wow-and-flutter-a-mixtape-for-steve-harrington) if you want :) 
> 
> The original title was C60, a reference to the length of the cassette tape that would appear on the labels (so C60 = 60 minutes in total). While I was double checking the length of tapes (I mean, I knew what length they were when I was growing up, but wanted to check for 1984-ish) I found this [amazing database of vintage cassettes](http://www.vintagecassettes.com/index.htm). I also got distracted by looking at [vintage Walkmans on this site.](http://www.sonyvintage.com/?page_id=1253)
> 
> But a friend convinced me my other idea, 'wow and flutter', was better. (And it's still [a cassette tape reference!](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wow_and_flutter_measurement))
> 
> Also, I know basically nothing about cars, but from a cursory google search, I think Billy's Camaro (which I believe is a 1979 Z28?) wouldn't have a tape deck (and like I said, I only watched the show once, so don't remember if there's one shown) but let us not dwell on that! If there isn't, let's say he put one in. If anyone has a better memory than me, too, feel free to let me know what we actually see of/in the car in the show. ;)
> 
> Edit: OK, so [according to the people here it may or may not be a Z28 or something else](https://www.reddit.com/r/StrangerThings/comments/796sjd/what_type_of_car_was_used_when_max_and_billy/), [this says it's likely a '79 Camaro or newer](https://www.hagerty.com/articles-videos/articles/2017/10/30/cars-of-stranger-things-season-2) but not an LT (but it has some Z28 indicators) and [this was the first site I looked at](https://www.spotern.com/en/spot/tv/stranger-things/92611/the-chevrolet-camaro-z28-1979-billy-hargrove-dacre-montgomery-in-stranger-things-s02e01) while googling deliriously at 1am that said it was a Z28. And now I've decided it's too hard.


End file.
